Till The Cows Come Home
by Butterfrogmantis
Summary: TTTE Oneshot: Farmer McColl strikes an international deal with Inverness to bring a small herd of highland cattle to his farm on Sodor. Donald befriends an escaped calf named Shoogle, and quickly makes a special place in his heart for the young, shaggy haired bovine. But Shoogle isn't the only Sodor resident that's desperate to capture Donald's attention ...


Farmer McColl had lost twelve cows that spring. Quite literally in fact. No matter how many times' he'd hammered down that Cedar wood fencing, a good strong gale was enough was to bend it against the elements. Seven of his best mothering cows and five calves had jumped the tilted panelling, and were later found at the foot of a clay ditch, which had become slippery in the rain and prevented them from climbing back up. It was darn bad luck, McColl muttered as he looked at his considerably smaller herd. Coming into summer with less than half of his original number of cows was not going to be good for business. What he needed was a new approach – and a new fence.

McColl sighed and set about in the kitchen, heating his small copper kettle over the stove. It bubbled away happily as the farmer reached into the cupboard to bring out a small metallic tin, from which he took two shortbreads. He placed these on a small blue plate, whilst he set about pouring sugar into his favourite mug. The kettle screamed at him from the stove, so McColl poured the boiling water over the teabag, mixed it with a splash of milk, and then brought them into the living room. He placed his feet on a patched old foot rest, and turned the TV on just in time to catch an episode of the great Sodor bake off. Sir was a judge as usual, along with the thin controller and Sir Robert Norramby.

"These shortbreads are absolutely wonderful" The fat controller exclaimed from the TV box, patting the beaming baker on the back. "Full marks!"

McColl chuckled as he sipped his tea, and reached out a hand to bring his own biscuits towards him. As he lifted the lid, an image on it caught his eye. The metal had a red tartan pattern with a large highland cow on the front. The farmer stroked the cartoon bovine with a calloused finger, his thoughts whirling like a spindle. Something clicked in the back of his mind. He rose from his armchair and hobbled over to the hallway where his phone stood in its latch. He waited, somewhat impatiently, as the number went through.

"Farmer Robertson? It's yer old friend McColl here – yes yes everything's fine. Listen, I have a favour to ask, farmer te farmer. Would ye mind helping an old pal out?"

*****

"Nothin' like a good bacon sandwich tae start the day" Douglas grinned, smacking his lips in appreciation as he raised his breakfast to his mouth.

"Mornin' Dougie!" Donald chirped, suddenly appearing in the kitchen and slapping his brother on the back. Douglas' bacon sandwich flew out of his mouth and skidded across the kitchen floor, where it came to a rest just under the fridge. He sighed irritably and went to prepare another.

"Mornin' Donnie"

Donald grinned and rested his feet on the kitchen table, leaning back in his chair.

"Yessire Douglas, ah have a good feelin' about today"

"Whit kind of feeling – do ye want a sandwich?"

"Aye. And ah dinnae know. But it feels like something good is gonna happen" Donald stretched, cracking his shoulder blade. "Ah feel it in mah gut"

"Well ye oughta feel this in there" Douglas joked, passing over one of the bacon butties. "One of us has to go o'er tae the dairy, an' the other will handle dockyard. Ah thin-"

"Bagsie dairy" Donald grinned, wiping a few crumbs from his mouth and depositing them on the table cloth.  
"Somehow ah knew he was gonna say that" Douglas tutted, taking his brother's plate from the table. "Somehow ah also knew he'd nae clean up after himself! Donnie!"

But the scot was already out of the door.

The Caledonian twins had not been on Sodor that long, so Donald was enjoying the scenery as he took his engine down the line towards the farm. The sky was a perfect azure ombre that morning, with just a touch of yellow where the horizon kissed the hills. Several fluffy clouds floated lazily by, as if to promise clear weather that day. Humming the tune of Scotland's calling, he veered left on the tracks where the sign with a cow pointed him. Rolling fields of emerald green were dotted with orchards, whose plump fruits weighed down the branches, and shone in the sun like treasure. As Donald took his engine down a particularly crowded field, he couldn't help but pluck two of the scarlet apples that dangled enticingly through his cab window. He tucked one apple into his sporran for later and bit into the second. There was a satisfactory crunch as his teeth sank into it, and he licked the juice from the side of his mouth.

By the time the driver had reached the farm, the apple was down to the core, which he chucked into the pig pen before casually walking up to the door. He could hear the humming of a radio, and then a middle aged man opened the door. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows as flour was covering both forearms. The delicious smell of baked goods drifted through the hallway, making Donald's mouth water.

"Ah, you must be the delivery driver" the farmer squinted up at the scot. "The crates are ready, just give me a moment" He started to walk down the hall, then paused and turned back "Would you uh, like a muffin?"

"Ach, that's alright laddie" Donald smiled "Ah've had me breakfast"

"I insist!" the man turned into a room and came out a moment later with a steaming cake in his hand.

"On the house my good man"

"I uh, thank ye" Donald smiled, biting into the delicacy. It's sweet plum filling coated his tongue, even better than the earlier bacon sandwich or apple. The Caledonian made a little 'mmm' of appreciation, and gave a thumbs up to the farmer as he finished.

"Mighty good bakin' there sir"

"Call me McColl. And that there is a genuine old family recipe. Ma's plum muffins" McColl boasted, proudly twiddling his moustache between his thumb and forefinger. "Now, follow me to the creates"  
He lead Donald out onto the pasture, where a series of creates were piled high next to a cedar wood fence. A small herd of familiar animals were grazing lazily in the centre of the adjacent paddock. Donald would recognise those auburn hired creatures anywhere, but he had not expected to see any so far down as Sodor.

"Well ah'll be a unicorn's cousin – heelund coos!"

"Hm?" McColl looked up and grinned. "Oh yes! I struck a deal with my old friend from Inverness. One small herd of Robertson's prize highland cows" McColl dropped his voice to just above a whisper "There were ... complications with my herd this winter. The current calves will be used for calving themselves soon as they're ready, so I can keep em going"

"Ah" Donald nodded respectfully. "Well they're mighty fine creatures' sir"

McColl thanked him and helped transport the crates over to Donald's train. The Scot bade farewell and started up his engine, once again heading down the track, humming as he shovelled coal into the firebox. It roared happily underneath him and Donald continued on his way, tapping his fingers on the inner rivets of the cab.

Before long, he emerged from the orchard and into solid sunlight once more. His destination was a little over a few miles away, so he increased his speed slightly as he chuffed along past the fields. There was a large lake in the distance, its surface shimmering and dancing with the 10 o clock sun. A flock of sparrows flew overhead, and Donald inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of the outdoors and the buddleia that hung from the bushes which overlapped the tracks. He was about half way down the line, when something suddenly made him come to a grinding halt. The wheels of his engine screeched and shook the train, and Donald was thrown violently against the door. When at last, the world stopped spinning; he peered over the dab door. The thing that had made him stop was safe at least – the engine had stopped a little over two feet away. Breathing a sigh of relief, he opened the cab door and climbed out.

It was a calf. A little, ginger highland cow. Donald assumed it had escaped McColl's farm. He shook his head and strolled over, keeping low to the ground. The calf seemed quite calm about his presence, and didn't budge so much as a hoof when Donald nudged it with firm but friendly hands.

"C'mon ye wee scunner" The scot grunted "Back tae farmer McColls with ye"

Still the calf didn't move. It gazed lazily up at him with big brown eyes as if to say 'really?'.

Donald knelt up and scratched his chin, wondering if there were any nearby leverage tools. The calf stuck it's nose in the air and started stiffing intently at the scot's sporran. After the initial surprise, he realised what was intriguing the bovine, and took out the second apple. The calf's ears perked up, and it got to it's feet, shaking itself thoroughly from head to hooves. Donald grinned, and slowly tempted the calf into his cab, where he shut the door and placed the apple on the floor.

"We'll get ye back to yer farm just as soon as ah've delivered this dairy" He promised, starting up the engine again. The calf shook it's coat again, and Donald chuckled.

"Ye like a wee shoogle don't ye? That's what ah'm gonnae call ye"

Shoogle said nothing, partially because she was a cow, and partially because she was enjoying her apple.

*****

It had just gone past half eleven, and Bill Bagnall was idly filling up the bunker of his engine with coal from a hopper. He wasn't in any hurry to proceed to his next job as he was feeling rather lazy that morning. He and his brother had been up half the night challenging each other in some new street fighter game Timothy had brought them for Christmas. Bill had won; at the cost of staying up much later than he wanted to - as he had to be up at 5 that morning. He yawned and checked his bunker. About half way full. He checked his phone. Heh, there was a funny video circulating Sodor of Montague Collett falling into a duck pond. His nick name was Duck, which made the candid situation twice as funny. A loud engine horn made the Brummie look up. His engine's bunker was filled now anyway, so he switched it off and went to climb into his cab, when he suddenly recognised the engine. It was one of the large Caledonian 812's that had recently arrived on Sodor, which were driven by two extremely attractive twins. At least in Bill's eyes.

A head of one of these twins poked out of the cab door.

"Oi, laddie – ah have a special visitor here so ah needtae get moving"  
Bill shook his head, blushing furiously, and quickly jumped into his cab, bringing it forwards to the junction. The Caledonian engine seemed to be following him down the tracks, so Bill sped up to his next destination, the bakery. As he pulled in, the Caledonian pulled up on the parallel track, and the Scotsman got out and onto the platform. Bill stared at him subtly through his cab door, feeling his heart hammer against his ribcage. It really was one of those twins – tall, strong, and every bit as handsome as Bill remembered from the first day he'd met them.

"Need something man?"

Bill jumped as a face appeared in the window of his engine. Unlike the scot's, it was not a young, attractive face, but a rather portly middle aged baker with a prominent wart at the side of his nose. Concealing his disappointment, Bill stated that he was there to take the china clay pits order of bread and butter for the workers.

"I believe this engine just pulled up some of that butter – cross the line and go and ask him" The baker waved nonchalantly at Donald. Bill gulped, feeling his face heat up again, but obediently crossed the bridging. Donald was pulling crates off his train with those defined muscles, and Bill fought hard to stop his mouth from watering. The scot was tall too, or taller than Bill at any rate.

"Get a grip" He muttered to himself, leaning against the Caledonian's cab. "Just ask the man for some butter"

Well, maybe he could ask after watching a while longer~ Out of both twins, Bill felt a stronger attraction to this one, which perhaps was odd, but that's how it worked sometimes.

Something slimy and wet brushed against the clay pit worker's cheek out of nowhere, and he let out a yelp of surprise. Donald looked up, startled, then saw what was happening and laughed.

"Shoogle ye naughty lassie!"

__Oh no he's coming over-__ Bill gulped, tugging his top down over his belt and trying to look calm. He wiped the wet patch from his cheek and glared at the shaggy haired uh ... cow, that was leaning out of the cab.

"Sorry laddie, this one's not mine. Ah'm just takin' her back tae the farm after this"

"O-oh right" Bill looked at the ground "I um, need some of your butter for the uh, china clay pits"  
"Ach – ah remember you"

"You do?" Bill perked up hopefully.

"Aye, we helped with yer landslide equipment. Ye have a brother right?"

Bill nodded enthusiastically, pleased that his crush had remembered him. Did this mean he liked him back?! Bill could only hope, but he kept this to himself.

"How much butter do ye need?" Donald called over his shoulder as he went to open some of the crates.

"Oh uh, just two or three lots. It's for the china clay kitchen staff"

"Aye, gotcha" Donald nodded as he took two jugs under his arm and nudged a third towards Bill.

"Ontae the train then"

Once the butter was safely stored in the trucks, Donald returned to his own engine. Shoogle was still leaning out of the cab window, so the scot scratched her absentmindedly behind the ear. Bill watched from the other platform, his head spinning as he tried to work out how to get the other's attention again. But Donald was preoccupied and Bill was running a little late, so he reluctantly left the bakery with his bread and butter loads.

"Now then Shoogle, shall we get ye home?" Donald grinned, jumping back into his cab. He was about to steam off when the bakery owner ran up, waving his hands.

"That china clay train forgot one of their carts! Can you take it to them?"

"Oh uhh" Donald glanced at his bovine passenger. She shook her coat nonchalantly and lay down by the firebox.

"Ah uh, sure. Quick detour" Donald took the cart and hauled it into his cab. "Donnae worry lassie, we'll be back at yer farm soon"

*****

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you had a brain aneurism Bill"

"Ah don't think he'd be alive"

"I meant the colour of his face- look at him!"

"Ah think he looks a wee bit day dreamy, like he's seen a pretty lassie"

"It won't be a 'lassie' if I know my brother" Ben muttered darkly, picking up his sandwich.

"Just as long as he's doin' his work" Douglas smiled, taking a bite of his own.

"S'pose" Ben muttered through a mouthful of bread and ham. "Oh he's coming over"

Bill slid into the seat next to his twin, a dazed look hanging about him. He picked up two slices of bread from the rack, smeared some butter over them, and then ate them as they sat without bothering to fill the sandwich with any other contents. This was very out of character. Where was Bill's usual meat and 3 condiments combo? He was eating strangely too; his eyes were unfocused, only vaguely glancing at the far wall. It took a full two minutes for him to notice Ben's look of confusion and shock, and when he did he simply murmured "what?"

"You're acting like an alien's sipped out your brains - that's what" Ben retorted, slapping the back of his brother's head with a placemat. "What's wrong with you?"

"Oh um, just had a bit of a uh, run in at the bakery" Bill looked down at his bread and butter sandwich as he took another bite. His eyes were twinkling in the way they only did when he was excited about something.

"Wiiiiiiith?" Ben prompted, casting a knowing glance at Douglas and rolling his eyes. The number 10 engine driver giggled.

"Oh~ just a tall, dark, handsome stranger~" Bill grinned, finishing the last of his sandwich in a bite and finally looking more alert. "Actually, it was someone-"

He was cut off by the sound of an engine whistle from outside the kitchen. All three heads turned to see a shiny black engine pull up alongside the lunch hut, and Bill's cheeks grew scarlet again.  
"Donnie!" Douglas grinned as his brother entered the room. "Whit are ye doin' here man?"

"Ah could ask ye the same thing" The other chuckled "Ah'm dropping off one of the crates that the china clay pits forgot"

Bill blushed again, but this time it was embarrassment.

"Then you must have lunch with us!" Douglas beamed "Ah was invited by wee Benny"

"Ah, ah saw him earlier at the bakery"

"No um, that was me" Bill piped up hopefully, feeling a little shiver run down his spine as Donald turned his attention on him.

"Ah, well it was very nice of ye, but ah have a wee passenger to drop off" Donald suddenly grinned, and grabbed Douglas' arm "Come an' look Dougie – ah think ye'll like her"

Curious, Ben also followed. Feeling miffed that a cow was getting more attention from the number 9 driver than him, Bill slunk at the back of the line, a small scowl on his face.

Shoogle hopped out of the cab and shook herself thoroughly on the ground whilst Douglas cooed over her and ruffled her fur. Ben patted her cautiously on her flank, as he was slightly nervous around large animals. Bill hung a few meters away, wanting desperately to talk to Donald. Shoogle seemed to recognise him, because she trotted briskly over and butted his legs.

"She likes ye!" Donald laughed, and Douglas agreed.

"H-heh yeah. Maybe" Bill patted her shoulder noncommittally. "You really should take her back. The clay pits aren't the best for uh, cows"

"Agreed. Come oan Shoogie" Donald grabbed one of the calf's horns and took her back to the cab.

"See ye later Dougie!" He called cheerfully as he began to reverse. Douglas and Ben waved. Bill simply stared, longingly.

They were making their way back down the miles of track when Donald first noticed Shoogle acting strangely. She was rocking sideways in the cab and looking out of the window. The scot pulled into a siding to check her over. She mooed weakly, and it occurred to Donald that she hadn't eaten all day since the one apple he'd given her. The farm was still over an hour away, and Donald had no cows milk. He wasn't sure whether she'd been weaned yet, but he figured it was worth a try. Luckily the siding was adjacent to a large empty field, so he hopped over the fence and struggled to pull her over. She stood, confused for a few seconds, and then seemed to understand where she was and what was around her. To Donald's relief, she began to graze. He sat back in the grass to watch her, allowing the afternoon summer sun to wash over him. He closed his eyes, and thought of things that always cheered him up – like the rolling mountains of his home country (and playing in the snow that fell on them).

He opened his eyes when he felt something heavy on his leg. Shoogle was lying down next to him, resting her head on his lap. The scot chuckled, and scratched her chin. If she was a more practical animal, like a dog, he'd have tried to buy her off McColl. He assumed she'd be used for calving when she was old enough, and very much hoped he wouldn't one day end up eating her.

"Atta lass" He smiled as she closed her eyes contentedly; her tail flicking away a few midges that circled around.

By this point, a group of ominously dark clouds were approaching in the distance, so Donald gently woke the sleeping bovine and helped her back into the cab one last time. She was definitely acting more herself, so the food trick seemed to have done its job. For the rest of the journey she slept peacefully by the firebox, not waking until the engine finally came back to a stop by the orchards again. It was night, and the dark clouds from earlier had begun to empty a gentle drizzle onto Sodor. There was a light on in McColl's lower right window, and Donald could hear the gentle buzzing of a TV inside. He knocked on the brass door handle, and waited till the door opened. McColl looked a little surprised to see a visitor at the time of night, until he noticed the calf standing nearby.

"There it is!" He gasped "Thank you sir! I thought I was going crazy when I counted one less this afternoon"

"Found her in the field out west" Donald gestured "She's been a good gal"

"I'll say" McColl chuckled "Into the paddock with her now"

McColl backed down the hall a little and came back with a rope in his hand, which he tied loosely around the calf's neck, thanked Donald once more, and headed to the field in the back. Satisfied, Donald returned to his engine and started his journey home – just in time, because almost as soon as he got into his cab, the rain began to come down in torrents. By the time he got back to his apartment, it had been joined by a howling wind. Donald hoped Shoogle would be safe in her shed, and that his engine would be safe in his.

The next morning, the storm had passed, and as Donald stepped out onto the path, he could see almost everything was covered in dew. He wiped some of the moisture from the smokebox of his engine and prepared to climb inside.

"Gonnae see yer wee coo friend?" Douglas chuckled as he trailed in after his brother.

"Now that ye mention it, good idea"

"Ah'm always full o' good ideas Donnie. Oh, an ah've invited the clay twins fer lunch"

"Whit fer?"

"Fer their hospitality yesterday"

"Sure it's not cause ye fancy them?~" Donald teased, then quickly ducked - narrowly avoiding his brother's palm.

"Ah'm just bein' friendly like" Douglas smirked and looked at his nails "But uh, ah can't say how it goes the other way round"

"Whit?"

The number 10 engine driver feigned an innocent smile. His twin had always been a little bit clueless when it came to people having crushes on him. Douglas bet 20 quid it would take him months before he noticed that Bill was obviously infatuated with the number 9 scot. Even Douglas could see as much. Douglas himself was just being friendly for the time being, although enjoying Ben's company when Bill was off day dreaming.

There was a grin on Donald's face as he pulled into the orchard that morning. He'd brought another apple with him since the calf had liked it so much the day before. Even as he stepped out, he could sense something was wrong. Fear rising in his chest, Donald took off around the side of the farm house to see the paddock where the highland cows were being kept – with no cows.  
"Farmer McColl! Where are the cows?!" Donald tucked his apple away again, and raced over to where the farmer stood by the fencing. He jumped as the scot shouted.

"This darn fence again! Luckily they didn't move very far – most of them are in that shed at the back"  
"Most?"

McColl didn't look him in the eyes.

"Yer uh, calf from yesterday got out again"

Donald could feel a lump in his throat, and he did his best to swallow it.

"Ah, um. Well ah I ... ah'll go look fer her after. Can ah at least help ye with the fence?"

"You can try"

Donald felt it was the least he could do. He hauled the panelling upright and noticed one of the poles was considerably higher than the others. He took it out and peered into the hole left behind. Covered by dirt, but still visible, was a large rock.

"Farmer McColl? There's a rock blockin' tae fence from goin' in properly"

"Ah ..."

"Ah'd suggest diggin' that out with yer tools" Donald stood up and brushed the dirt from his knees.  
"Now, aboot yer calf"

Donald spent two hours searching the western field again, calling and clapping and ringing a bell McColl had given him. He could feel the weight of his other chores clocking up on him, but he didn't care just this once. Let the fat controller shout at him for all he cared. At the far end of the field was a little gathering of trees that opened into a forest. Donald reasoned that Shoogle might have broken through, and he was determined to complete his mission, so he crawled under, ignoring the twigs and leaves that raked at his knees.

"Shoogle?" He listened. "Lassie?"

__Moo__

Donald held his breath and called again, walking towards where he thought he'd heard the noise. The moo came again, more clearly, and he picked up the pace. The ground was slippery, and Donald almost fell - but caught himself just in time on a tree branch. He could see a large ditch, which the storm had turned to slush, and at the bottom of the muddy slope were two muddy figures. One was Shoogle alright, and she wagged her tail when she saw Donald. The other was human, and desperately trying to shove the calf up the incline. Donald fought hard to remember the difference, but somehow just knew.

"Bill?"

The china clay twin looked up, his eyes big and bright.

"Whit are ye doing down there laddie?"

"I ... I wanted to see you this morning and I guessed you'd come to see the cow again, but the fence was broken and McColl was herding them into a shed. Then I saw something out of the corner of my eye and knew who it was so I followed her, but when I called her I startled her and she fell and now, well we're both stuck because she's not moving."

"Hold on laddie, ah have just tae thing" Donald produced the shiny red apple from his sporran.  
Shoogle's ears immediately perked up, and she took a step forwards in spite of the thick mud, mooing appreciatively for the apple.

"Atta girl – can ye start trying to push her now?"

"I can try" Bill said, and he did.

With Bill's pushing, Donald's encouragement, and Shoogle's desire for the apple, the team got the calf to the top of the slope. Donald grabbed her forelegs on the final stretch and with one sharp heave, they were finally out. The two men lay panting on the ground, whilst the calf munched happily besides them.

"T-thank you Donald" Bill grinned, very aware of the filthy state he was in.

The scot smiled.

"Nae, thank YOU. But uh, why did ye want to see me this mornin'?"

Bill blushed, hoping it was covered by the mud at least.

"Oh um ... to say hi?"

Donald blinked, and then laughed. Bill joined in nervously, but was soon giggling in spite of himself. It was all so silly in the grand scheme of things.

Once they finally got to their feet, they still had to get Shoogle back to the farm. Taking a side each, the two lead her back through the forest and up to the farm on top of the hill, chatting all the while and laughing about the whole situation. McColl thanked them, for help with both his herd and fence, and offered Bill the use of his shower whilst he hosed down Shoogle's fur. Bill's clothes would also need washing, so McColl said he could take some temporary spares from his airing cupboard. They hung comically off the small Brummie, being a good few sizes too large. The three sat in the living room, enjoying cups of warm tea and shortbreads from McColl's biscuit tin whilst Bill and Donald explained the rescue of the runaway calf.

"Ah couldnae have done it without wee Billy here"

Bill's rosy cheeks grew pinker, and he sipped his tea to conceal the large beam on his face.

"Well, I owe you two one. I think she'll give back some lively calves of her own"

"Just don't expect us tae save every single one!" Donald joked, and the three of them laughed merrily once more.

Once they were done, the two visitors thanked McColl for his hospitality and prepared to leave. Donald stood on the lawn for a moment, gazing at the orchard. Bill sidled up next to him, wondering what he was thinking about, but enjoying the quiet moment. Donald knew his name now at least, and they had a good story to share. Bill chuckled to himself. Part of him wanted to hold Donald's hand, but he knew that would be strange, so he kept his fist at his sides for the time being. Today was one of many days he'd have to get the attention of Donald McIntosh, and they didn't all have to be as dramatic as finding a highland cow at the bottom of a muddy slope.

"Alright laddie, we better get back tae our jobs" Donald smiled and tossed him an apple from one the branches. "An' ye need tae get yer clothes back – it's like lookin' at someone who's been deflated – ah'm messin' with ye lad! Ye store enough o' yer personality just how ye are, ah like it"

Bill's heart leapt at these words. Donald seemed to like him just how he was, and that was more than enough for now. Heh, to think he'd been jealous of a cow.


End file.
